Rahxus
02-27-2011, 12:13 AM
Origins
0
The heavy handed overhead blow slammed into Rahxus’ shield, knocking him back and onto a knee. His opponent let out another yell. Rahxus cowered under his shield as blows rained down, numbing his arm. When he feared his shield might break from the strain, a heavy boot flew up from under his guard to meet his chin. With a moist crack he was sent sprawling. He lay in the settling dust gurgling past the blood that somehow managed to pool in his mouth despite his slacked jaw.
His opponent advanced towards him again, weapon raised, but was met by the test proctor. The man beamed as he marked some things on his tablet and then walked over to where Rahxus gurgled in the dirt. As the proctor arrived, the healer Rahxus failed to notice kneeling next to him delivered an assessment of the damage, startling him. His jaw was broken on the left side and dislocated on the right. The proctor looked down expressionlessly at him and asked in a flat tone, “Never been in a fight have you?”
“N-no…”, Rahxus managed to stutter sheepishly after his jaw had been fixed.
The proctor spoke slowly and thoughtfully, “Well, you lasted about 12 seconds. That’s long enough for a skilled fighter to come help I suppose.”, then he paused as he eyed Rahxus rather large frame with a smirk, “Hell, you pass.”
Rahxus eyes widened as he started to blurt, “Tha-”
“By the skin of your teeth though!” the proctor cut him off, pointing a finger. “Understand that you won’t make it in unless you have talent for an art.”, he added as he straightened up and marked on his tablet.
Rahxus dragged himself to his feet and looked down on the large, burly man and said in a much calmer voice, “I understand, sir.” He returned his practice weapons and returned to the large group of prospective recruits encircling the live combat training center of the Yarkii Academy’s armed sector. This was the first milestone for recruits. The logic being that if you couldn’t at least hold your own in live combat then the standing army was no place for you. Therefore, raw combat capabilities are assessed before any time is wasted checking if you have talent for one of the magical arts studied there. Rahxus, though very large for his age (and for a man at all for that matter), desperately wanted to be an Aether mage gifted with an affinity for The Goddess. This would allow him to study the healing art and pursue his fascination with the workings of the human body. If he failed, he would be forced to return to his father’s small clinic in the far off farming town he had barely been permitted to leave.
As yells of combatants rang out across the flat dusty expanse Rahxus gazed over the crowd and picked out the few others he could see standing head and shoulders above the others, much like himself. They were two boys with flat steely eyes and short cropped hair and a girl with bored, half-lidded eyes and blonde hair that had been pulled back into a small braid that rested on the nape of her neck. All three had hard muscled, tanned bodies, a sort of hard beauty and an attitude that said they were not impressed with the fights they were witness to. While Rahxus studied the girl’s face she smirked and gave a small laugh as others in the crowd gasped and a shrill, panicked scream pierced the air.
Rahxus’ gaze snapped to the combat zone where he saw a bloodied face screaming and a clearly broken arm flopping sickeningly as it was flailed while the victor of the match tore at the screaming loser’s throat with blood soaked teeth and throaty, feral growls.
The proctor barreled over and punted the feral candidate, sending him sailing five feet before he hit the ground in a roll and came up in a low crouch, blood dripping from pulled back lips that exposed sharp, fang-like teeth. Rage burned in his eyes and seethed from his very presence as the proctor bellowed at him about restraint and proper force in practice environments and the healer fussed over the bloodied mass crying in the dirt. Rahxus was too shocked to comprehend most of what was said but he clearly understood the shouted, “You pass! But watch yourself Zverya!”
The feral boy smiled with a defiant glint in his eyes as he wiped his mouth. He was given a wide berth when he returned to the ranks of shocked onlookers.
A Zverya! The tribe of feral warriors gifted with speed and strength imbued by rage. They should be all but extinct after the recent cleansing. Rahxus hoped he would get a chance to find out what mechanism caused their bodies to change the way they did. He hoped even more that he would never have to fight the beast as he shifted his gaze back to the bloody loser who had rejoined the crowd, whole once more but still sobbing softly.
Nothing came close to being that exciting until the 3 large candidates Rahxus had noticed earlier had their turns. One of the boys, the smaller of the two, was matched up against the girl. They both had blond hair and looked like they were closely related. The boy gave up his shield in favor of a second practice sword while the girl gripped her sword backwards so that the blade pointed behind her. At the call, the boy quickly lunged forward with a flurry of flashing blows and swift sweeping kicks, but despite his speed and obvious skill he landed no clean hit. The girl dodged, blocked, and parried everything thrown at her and in a whirl stopped the boy in his tracks. She looked over her shoulder at him with her sword raised, the tip resting on his throat. The crowd clapped as they returned to the crowd smiling under the praise of the proctor. Rahxus would have continued staring at the girl’s striking smile had the other large boy not stepped forward. His hair was a sandy brown color and he was as an avatar of strength. He was at least a head taller than the other two like him and carried as much lean, steeled muscle as his large frame would permit. He stared vacantly as he took the field against a boy of average height and thick stocky build who appeared determined to win. The titanic youth eyed his weapons, which appeared dwarfed in his hands, and tossed his shield aside as he flourished the practice short sword as one would a large dagger. His opponent’s eyes hardened at the perceived insult. At the call the shorter boy charged behind his shield, delivering a deft and skillful stroke straight to the large boy’s ribs without dropping guard. The large boy unflinchingly stood and took three hard blows to the ribs and one overhead blow to the neck before bringing his sword around in a blur that sent his attacker flying through the air amongst splintered pieces shield and half a practice sword. The stocky boy landed hard and skidded to a halt where he lay gasping in the dust as the healer bent over him. The large boy disinterestedly dropped his splintered sword next to his discarded shield before returning to his place in the crowd, ignoring the proctor.
Rahxus was in sheer awe of these three, the titan in particular. Never before had he seen anybody of the like. He heard the proctor whispering soothingly to the defeated boy, “You put on a damn good show but you never stood a chance, son. Those three are Stali, natural born fighters. If it hadn’t of been for that you’d have won. You still pass though so don’t worry too much.”
Stali. They were real. Fighters of legend with herculean strength and titanic fortitude. How much was truth? How much was fiction? Rahxus burned with questions. He had to know. The girl turned and regarded him with inquisitive eyes when she caught him staring at her trio once more. Rahxus quickly dropped his gaze. He wished he wasn’t quite so very noticeable as he felt heat rise in his face.
The rest of the fights occurred without major incident. The candidates who were told they passed were led to the academy grounds where several Aether sages would administer affinity tests to search for talent in an art.
Magic, in the simplest terms, is the harnessing of energy with the assistance of an elemental spirit in order to do certain things. Each element’s energy is most effective when used within the parameters of that specific element. That is to say it wouldn’t be very efficient to attempt using energy from a flame spirit to conjure ice. To tell the truth, it would probably be impossible. This elemental energy can be taken into oneself for use through a focus in which a spirit resides or channels itself. The energy most useful to healing comes from the grand spirit itself, the Goddess. All living things are connected to the Goddess, but that doesn’t mean you can commune with her. Rahxus desperately hoped he displayed sufficient affinity for The Goddess to be a healer.
He waited in line with the others and held different amulets while willing a candle’s flame to grow, water within a glass to move, sand falling in an hourglass to slow or stop, and shredded paper to rustle about in a gust. Rahxus achieved none of these. But he didn’t care. Everything would be fine if he was judged to have an exceptional link to the Goddess. He waited and grew more and more anxious as his turn neared. This affinity was measured by a sage who would examine your inner life force. The more vibrant the life force the stronger the connection to the grand spirit which governed the living world, the Goddess. Rahxus’ hands shook as he placed them in the hands of the sage.
“Easy, child.”, the old sage crooned as she smiled warmly at Rahxus. She then closed her eyes and breathed serenely. This was it! He was going to be a healer! Then the sage paused and a puzzled look took hold on her face as she leaned forward and looked deep into Rahxus face.
What? Was his affinity so large that she had to double check? Rahxus’ excitement grew as she continued to stare intently at him. She screwed up her eyes and appeared to strain herself before letting out a sigh as she relaxed and whispered quietly, “I’m sorry, child. You have almost no connection to the Goddess. It’s as if you’re a corpse that has long since been parted from its soul.”
“That…that can’t be right…corpse?” Rahxus sputtered dumbly.
A middle aged man in the robes of an Aether stepped forward from his position behind the sage and said calmly, “It happens occasionally, though it usually means…” He trailed off as he laid his hand over the top of Rahxus’ trembling one. His eyes widened and, sounding pleased with himself, he said, “As I thought,” with a warm grin. “You have an astoundingly strong affinity for the dark spirit.”
“The Grand Demon!? No, no, no. No. No! Can’t be!” Rahxus rambled, panic stricken.
“As it is distastefully referred to by fanatics, but I assure you that it is nothing to be ashamed of. This Yarkii Academy exists to preserve the balance of the world, and as life exists so must death. The grand spirit watches over us in life the dark spirit watches over us in death. I assume you deeply wished to be one of the Goddess’s healers. You can still help people stay alive by convincing the dark spirit to allow a soul to remain with its body long enough for a healer to repair your fallen comrade.”
“O-ok,” Rahxus shakily muttered.
“You’ll be alright,” the middle aged Aether continued, “Come with me now, I’ll take care of your enrollment and help you settle in.”
0
The heavy handed overhead blow slammed into Rahxus’ shield, knocking him back and onto a knee. His opponent let out another yell. Rahxus cowered under his shield as blows rained down, numbing his arm. When he feared his shield might break from the strain, a heavy boot flew up from under his guard to meet his chin. With a moist crack he was sent sprawling. He lay in the settling dust gurgling past the blood that somehow managed to pool in his mouth despite his slacked jaw.
His opponent advanced towards him again, weapon raised, but was met by the test proctor. The man beamed as he marked some things on his tablet and then walked over to where Rahxus gurgled in the dirt. As the proctor arrived, the healer Rahxus failed to notice kneeling next to him delivered an assessment of the damage, startling him. His jaw was broken on the left side and dislocated on the right. The proctor looked down expressionlessly at him and asked in a flat tone, “Never been in a fight have you?”
“N-no…”, Rahxus managed to stutter sheepishly after his jaw had been fixed.
The proctor spoke slowly and thoughtfully, “Well, you lasted about 12 seconds. That’s long enough for a skilled fighter to come help I suppose.”, then he paused as he eyed Rahxus rather large frame with a smirk, “Hell, you pass.”
Rahxus eyes widened as he started to blurt, “Tha-”
“By the skin of your teeth though!” the proctor cut him off, pointing a finger. “Understand that you won’t make it in unless you have talent for an art.”, he added as he straightened up and marked on his tablet.
Rahxus dragged himself to his feet and looked down on the large, burly man and said in a much calmer voice, “I understand, sir.” He returned his practice weapons and returned to the large group of prospective recruits encircling the live combat training center of the Yarkii Academy’s armed sector. This was the first milestone for recruits. The logic being that if you couldn’t at least hold your own in live combat then the standing army was no place for you. Therefore, raw combat capabilities are assessed before any time is wasted checking if you have talent for one of the magical arts studied there. Rahxus, though very large for his age (and for a man at all for that matter), desperately wanted to be an Aether mage gifted with an affinity for The Goddess. This would allow him to study the healing art and pursue his fascination with the workings of the human body. If he failed, he would be forced to return to his father’s small clinic in the far off farming town he had barely been permitted to leave.
As yells of combatants rang out across the flat dusty expanse Rahxus gazed over the crowd and picked out the few others he could see standing head and shoulders above the others, much like himself. They were two boys with flat steely eyes and short cropped hair and a girl with bored, half-lidded eyes and blonde hair that had been pulled back into a small braid that rested on the nape of her neck. All three had hard muscled, tanned bodies, a sort of hard beauty and an attitude that said they were not impressed with the fights they were witness to. While Rahxus studied the girl’s face she smirked and gave a small laugh as others in the crowd gasped and a shrill, panicked scream pierced the air.
Rahxus’ gaze snapped to the combat zone where he saw a bloodied face screaming and a clearly broken arm flopping sickeningly as it was flailed while the victor of the match tore at the screaming loser’s throat with blood soaked teeth and throaty, feral growls.
The proctor barreled over and punted the feral candidate, sending him sailing five feet before he hit the ground in a roll and came up in a low crouch, blood dripping from pulled back lips that exposed sharp, fang-like teeth. Rage burned in his eyes and seethed from his very presence as the proctor bellowed at him about restraint and proper force in practice environments and the healer fussed over the bloodied mass crying in the dirt. Rahxus was too shocked to comprehend most of what was said but he clearly understood the shouted, “You pass! But watch yourself Zverya!”
The feral boy smiled with a defiant glint in his eyes as he wiped his mouth. He was given a wide berth when he returned to the ranks of shocked onlookers.
A Zverya! The tribe of feral warriors gifted with speed and strength imbued by rage. They should be all but extinct after the recent cleansing. Rahxus hoped he would get a chance to find out what mechanism caused their bodies to change the way they did. He hoped even more that he would never have to fight the beast as he shifted his gaze back to the bloody loser who had rejoined the crowd, whole once more but still sobbing softly.
Nothing came close to being that exciting until the 3 large candidates Rahxus had noticed earlier had their turns. One of the boys, the smaller of the two, was matched up against the girl. They both had blond hair and looked like they were closely related. The boy gave up his shield in favor of a second practice sword while the girl gripped her sword backwards so that the blade pointed behind her. At the call, the boy quickly lunged forward with a flurry of flashing blows and swift sweeping kicks, but despite his speed and obvious skill he landed no clean hit. The girl dodged, blocked, and parried everything thrown at her and in a whirl stopped the boy in his tracks. She looked over her shoulder at him with her sword raised, the tip resting on his throat. The crowd clapped as they returned to the crowd smiling under the praise of the proctor. Rahxus would have continued staring at the girl’s striking smile had the other large boy not stepped forward. His hair was a sandy brown color and he was as an avatar of strength. He was at least a head taller than the other two like him and carried as much lean, steeled muscle as his large frame would permit. He stared vacantly as he took the field against a boy of average height and thick stocky build who appeared determined to win. The titanic youth eyed his weapons, which appeared dwarfed in his hands, and tossed his shield aside as he flourished the practice short sword as one would a large dagger. His opponent’s eyes hardened at the perceived insult. At the call the shorter boy charged behind his shield, delivering a deft and skillful stroke straight to the large boy’s ribs without dropping guard. The large boy unflinchingly stood and took three hard blows to the ribs and one overhead blow to the neck before bringing his sword around in a blur that sent his attacker flying through the air amongst splintered pieces shield and half a practice sword. The stocky boy landed hard and skidded to a halt where he lay gasping in the dust as the healer bent over him. The large boy disinterestedly dropped his splintered sword next to his discarded shield before returning to his place in the crowd, ignoring the proctor.
Rahxus was in sheer awe of these three, the titan in particular. Never before had he seen anybody of the like. He heard the proctor whispering soothingly to the defeated boy, “You put on a damn good show but you never stood a chance, son. Those three are Stali, natural born fighters. If it hadn’t of been for that you’d have won. You still pass though so don’t worry too much.”
Stali. They were real. Fighters of legend with herculean strength and titanic fortitude. How much was truth? How much was fiction? Rahxus burned with questions. He had to know. The girl turned and regarded him with inquisitive eyes when she caught him staring at her trio once more. Rahxus quickly dropped his gaze. He wished he wasn’t quite so very noticeable as he felt heat rise in his face.
The rest of the fights occurred without major incident. The candidates who were told they passed were led to the academy grounds where several Aether sages would administer affinity tests to search for talent in an art.
Magic, in the simplest terms, is the harnessing of energy with the assistance of an elemental spirit in order to do certain things. Each element’s energy is most effective when used within the parameters of that specific element. That is to say it wouldn’t be very efficient to attempt using energy from a flame spirit to conjure ice. To tell the truth, it would probably be impossible. This elemental energy can be taken into oneself for use through a focus in which a spirit resides or channels itself. The energy most useful to healing comes from the grand spirit itself, the Goddess. All living things are connected to the Goddess, but that doesn’t mean you can commune with her. Rahxus desperately hoped he displayed sufficient affinity for The Goddess to be a healer.
He waited in line with the others and held different amulets while willing a candle’s flame to grow, water within a glass to move, sand falling in an hourglass to slow or stop, and shredded paper to rustle about in a gust. Rahxus achieved none of these. But he didn’t care. Everything would be fine if he was judged to have an exceptional link to the Goddess. He waited and grew more and more anxious as his turn neared. This affinity was measured by a sage who would examine your inner life force. The more vibrant the life force the stronger the connection to the grand spirit which governed the living world, the Goddess. Rahxus’ hands shook as he placed them in the hands of the sage.
“Easy, child.”, the old sage crooned as she smiled warmly at Rahxus. She then closed her eyes and breathed serenely. This was it! He was going to be a healer! Then the sage paused and a puzzled look took hold on her face as she leaned forward and looked deep into Rahxus face.
What? Was his affinity so large that she had to double check? Rahxus’ excitement grew as she continued to stare intently at him. She screwed up her eyes and appeared to strain herself before letting out a sigh as she relaxed and whispered quietly, “I’m sorry, child. You have almost no connection to the Goddess. It’s as if you’re a corpse that has long since been parted from its soul.”
“That…that can’t be right…corpse?” Rahxus sputtered dumbly.
A middle aged man in the robes of an Aether stepped forward from his position behind the sage and said calmly, “It happens occasionally, though it usually means…” He trailed off as he laid his hand over the top of Rahxus’ trembling one. His eyes widened and, sounding pleased with himself, he said, “As I thought,” with a warm grin. “You have an astoundingly strong affinity for the dark spirit.”
“The Grand Demon!? No, no, no. No. No! Can’t be!” Rahxus rambled, panic stricken.
“As it is distastefully referred to by fanatics, but I assure you that it is nothing to be ashamed of. This Yarkii Academy exists to preserve the balance of the world, and as life exists so must death. The grand spirit watches over us in life the dark spirit watches over us in death. I assume you deeply wished to be one of the Goddess’s healers. You can still help people stay alive by convincing the dark spirit to allow a soul to remain with its body long enough for a healer to repair your fallen comrade.”
“O-ok,” Rahxus shakily muttered.
“You’ll be alright,” the middle aged Aether continued, “Come with me now, I’ll take care of your enrollment and help you settle in.”